𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 - [𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻]

𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐢. 𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘴𝘰𝘯

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 - tammy thompson

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 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍 Steve's face very promptly evaporated the moment Robin took ahold of his hand; she yanked him through the theatre all the while trampling on people's shoes. She muttered a string of apologies that couldn't have sounded less sincere if she tried.

 Steve tripped over his untied shoe laces, yet still managed to swipe Scarlet's hand into his own, compelling her to come along. Scarlet simply let him as she stuffed away any remnants of the thoughts about herself and Steve, and instead, pulled on her babysitting pants; ready to ensure that neither of her sailors tripped up a flight of stairs.

 Robin moved like a woman on a mission, seeking out a water fountain as though she hadn't seen water for years... Scarlet was certain this was the one and only time Robin had managed to sprint without stumbling over her own two feet.

 Scarlet was quite impressed, really; Robin had managed to seek a fountain out as though she had the nose of a sniffer dog. She scooped handfuls of water into her parched mouth, choking for a moment before diving straight back in.

 Steve soon scrambled over, pushing Robin to the side before dipping his head into the water, gulping it down as swiftly as he could. Water trailed over his face, pooling into his uniform. Dried blood began to budge, tinting the water an awful plum colour that Steve still continued to swallow.

 Scarlet, after settling Robin onto the ground just to make sure she wouldn't topple over the railings, gradually made her way to Steve's side. He blinked, a sluggish smile fanning over his flushed features when Scarlet gently pushed his face to the side, filling her cupped hand with water. She held his chin, trying with all her might to ignore that silly little smile as she doused his cuts and bruises with cool moisture; hoping it would provide some relief for when the drugs would inevitably wear off.

 She tugged at his ascot, drenching it with water the moment it fell loose. Then, with a careful hand, she wiped away the blood on his face. His eyes had closed and Scarlet couldn't help but think back to the year prior when she'd cleaned his face of the blood Billy had left in his wake. How many more times would she have to clear away his wounds?

 Scarlet could then feel his eyes on her, watching every tick of her lips, the way her brows would rise and furrow every time he'd wince. He didn't say a word as she stepped back, giving his face a final once-over.

 The cuts on his cheekbones were deep and there was no way they wouldn't scar. The cut on his lip had been torn open again, little droplets of blood beading over his lips, tinting them a deeper red. He hadn't complained once, not even when the soaked ascot had been brushed over a particularly nasty bruise on the side of his face; it had already become a deep and dark yellow, splotches of wine and blue marring the middle.